


1948

by suhossineun



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Heavy Angst, Historical References, Korean History, Korean History - Colonial Era, Korean War, M/M, One Shot, Porn with Feelings, Sad Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-20
Updated: 2019-06-20
Packaged: 2020-05-15 12:59:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19296244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suhossineun/pseuds/suhossineun
Summary: Nothing but ideology can break them apart.





	1948

**Author's Note:**

> written for Becky because she asked for sad suyeol so I delivered hehe

Ever since Chanyeol told Junmyeon about his decision, Junmyeon has refused to speak with him. He hoped that it would change his mind- that Junmyeon’s strict refusal to even look at him would make him realize how badly he doesn’t want him to go. But his beloved hasn’t come to his senses. The boat to Nampo is leaving in just a few days, so Junmyeon heard, and Chanyeol is to leave tomorrow if he wants to make it on time. To sail up north. To help in the communist revolution, as he said- to Junmyeon, he was only parroting what the strange men had said, when they stayed in the village for a couple of days. 

That the great leader needs the help of able-bodied men and women. That things will be better, not under the rule of corrupt elite but bright-minded communists. No more living under the thumb of greedy landlords and people who only benefitted from the brutal rule of the Japanese. White rice three times a day, and more meat than you could eat. 

They promised so much that Junmyeon instantly knew it couldn’t have been right. His father had said so, too; to not believe those lies. That things weren’t quite as they described it. It’s like when the Japanese said they would give everyone land if they went to Manchuria- everyone who went and somehow made it back alive told terrible stories of the things they went through. This, too, sounds like another fake promise of paradise.

But Chanyeol, his fiancé, he not only believed what the men told him, but wants to go. Is going to go. 

He asked Junmyeon to come with him. 

Junmyeon said he would never. 

But this is his last night, and when he approaches Junmyeon, he can’t walk away. Can’t look away, in case this is the last time he sees him. But none of the angry words come forth right now, his tongue suddenly tied, his lips sealed; all the things he wanted to say, all the things that consumed him all this time, he cannot say any of it.

Chanyeol takes his hand, and leads him to his home. He lives alone, his parents died of starvation under the colonial rule, and a part of Junmyeon thinks that his urge to leave might be related to that. That he doesn’t have enough reasons to stay; that Junmyeon alone isn’t enough for him to not go. 

First tear rolls down his tanned cheek, although he’s quick to wipe it away, before Chanyeol sees. 

Everything in the house has been put away neatly, or given away. It looks so stripped, down to its bare bones, that it hardly resembles the home Junmyeon used to know. Used to think he’d move in with Chanyeol, once they married.

Another tear falls. If Chanyeol leaves… If he doesn’t come back, and if everything is truly so perfect up there, then he might not come back. They’re not getting married anymore.   
Chanyeol’s sleeping mat is still there, and Junmyeon lies down on it, his body doing these motions just out of pure habit. Chanyeol follows just as easily, lying down beside him, his hand falling on its usual place on Junmyeon’s waist, pulling him close. 

For a moment, they just gaze at one another. It seems unfair that Junmyeon is the only one crying, even if there’s deep sadness in Chanyeol’s eyes too. Like the eyes of a cow; big, knowing, yet hard to read. 

“You should come with me,” Chanyeol whispers, but before he even finishes his sentence, Junmyeon is already shaking his head. It doesn’t deter him, however, pleading him to join him this last time. “Our people need us. We’re both hard workers, they’ll welcome us with open arms and we’ll never lack anything at all, ever again. No more hunger, no more eating weeds from the mountains to sustain ourselves. Can you imagine? All the white rice you’ll ever want, Jun. We will lack nothing. No more oppression, no more fear. Do you not want that? Do you not want to be with me?” 

Junmyeon can tell how convinced Chanyeol is, how sincerely he believes all that. And sure, Junmyeon is hungry even now, even though things aren’t as bad as they used to be- the promise of endless food, it’s enticing. But therein also lies the fault in it all, because there is no way they could ever have that much white rice, meat, real vegetables. How could they grow that much, to feed everyone like kings? Junmyeon doesn’t believe it, cannot believe it. 

Junmyeon cups Chanyeol’s cheek, caresses his thumb across his cheekbone. “I want to be with you,” he whispers, and presses his finger across Chanyeol’s lips so he can’t speak. “But I will not come with you, not to the north. I’d rather follow you across the ocean to Japan… But not the north. They’re feeding you lies, Chanyeol. Everything they’ve ever said, it’s all lies. I won’t leave everything behind for that.”

Chanyeol lowers his head to the crook of Junmyeon’s neck, pulls down his jeoggori and shirt to reveal his bare skin. There, Junmyeon can finally feel his tears fall. “I want you to come with me,” he murmurs, hand squeezing Junmyeon’s hip tighter. Junmyeon begins to gently undo the ribbons in their clothes, to make slipping them off easier; he just needs something to distract himself with, even if it isn’t really working. 

“I won’t follow you there, Chanyeol,” he murmurs back, and presses a tender kiss on Chanyeol’s ear, buries his nose in his hair to breathe him in. To memorize everything he can, before he’ll be gone. “Do you not remember the Japanese spouting these same lies about Manchuria? Do you not remember how none of the girls came back who left there? How the men came back as skeletons, with only horror stories to their name?”

Chanyeol shakes his head, snivels his nose, and lifts his head up enough to kiss Junmyeon properly. His lips linger in each caress, holds still after every move, and Junmyeon knows he’s trying to engrave this moment into his memories. No matter how much they hate it, this already feels like a goodbye. 

Junmyeon slips Chanyeol’s vest off, and tugs away his shirt, to press his hands to his warm chest, down his sides still wide even after the hunger they’ve all been through, his strong back used to hard labor, down to his hips to take off his pants as well. Chanyeol doesn’t fight it, just keeps kissing him, his eyes closed but tears still falling, clumsy fingers trying to do the same for Junmyeon while kicking off his pants at the same time. 

Since that isn’t really working, Junmyeon ever so gently nudges him on his side so they can be more comfortable, so that he can undress himself. All the times that they did this flood back to him now; their first time, awkward and painful and confusing, the times they did this for hours just because they could, the times they only had a short while in between chores to be with one another. Sometimes out in the fields, or by the river, but usually right here. On Chanyeol’s bed, in his home. Just like this. 

“I will come and get you once I’m all settled there, once I have fat, round cheeks and a pot belly, so I can prove to you how well I’m eating,” Chanyeol promises and Junmyeon can’t help but laugh, as hollow as it sounds. He cannot imagine Chanyeol like that, and he doesn’t want to hold onto false hope.

But even so, his bleeding heart cannot disregard it. 

“I’ll be waiting,” he replies, trailing kisses to Chanyeol’s bare neck and shoulder, purposefully leaving marks. Let the world know how much he wanted this man, even if he couldn’t keep him. “I’ll be here… I’ll wait for the day you come back again.”

“I’ll learn how to write, so I can write letters to you.” Chanyeol’s breaths come quicker now, slowly rolling onto his back as Junmyeon continues kissing his bare skin, moving across his collarbones to his chest. Listens to the magic of his heartbeat, the flowing river in his lungs.

If only he could make his home there, within him. Then, they would never have to be apart. 

“I’ll learn how to read, so I can read them,” Junmyeon counters, feels Chanyeol’s stomach move against his chest, the tightness of his muscles. Chanyeol’s hands in his hair, stroking the long tresses- overgrown, the Japanese would have had him whipped for wearing his hair like this.

But now, there are no more Japanese officials. Only a border across their own country, and a nation split in two. 

The two of them, also split into two halves. 

Chanyeol uses his grip in his hair to tilt his head up, so they can make eye contact. Junmyeon is scared to- doesn’t know if he can survive it without shaking apart, yet somehow, he does. For a moment they simply stare at one another, speechless, only communicating through breaths, skin, the smallest of touches. 

“I love you,” Chanyeol says, swears, whispers. “I love you. I always will.”

“I love you too,” Junmyeon murmurs back. Promises this, although he can’t promise that it’ll never change. That his resentment for Chanyeol leaving won’t take away the love and affection he now holds for him in his heart. 

Maybe that’s what he should have said. To try and convince him to stay. But he already promised to wait, promised to be here for him, if he ever comes back, and Junmyeon isn’t someone who can take back promises. 

A sob suddenly escapes him, his muscles moving on their own accord, and Chanyeol presses their lips back together as though to stop more bubbling up to the surface. Junmyeon wraps his arms around his neck and shoulders, and pulls him on top of him again, needs to feel him like this, needs him to weigh him down and be his anchor one last time. 

And as Chanyeol moves on top of him, as his weight raises familiar memories from deep within, Junmyeon finds his needs growing more urgent again, his body reacting to the anticipation at last, heaviness settling to the pit of his stomach. He grinds his hips up, ever so slightly, to chase that friction, and sighs into the kiss as faint sparks of pleasure ignite over his skin, spreading from his groin to the rest of his body, up his spine and down his limbs. Chanyeol’s hands slip down along his body once again, and settle on his hips, to hold him there as he returns the gesture, allowing Junmyeon to feel his want as well, how his manhood grows hotter, heavier with blood. 

Junmyeon can’t imagine doing this with anyone else. Can’t imagine that anyone could make him feel this way. And he wants to ask Chanyeol to promise him- to not sleep with another man, another woman, to not hold anyone like this. But how could he utter those words? 

He has already lost him. There’s no use in binding him with words. 

He wants to, but he can’t. He can only keep this Chanyeol in his memories; his loyal, loving Chanyeol, who never had eyes for anyone else but Junmyeon. Who loved him so fiercely that nothing could stop him, not the imperial police, not the famine, not the poverty. 

But now, the communist idealism is splitting them apart, and Junmyeon will only have his memories to cherish. 

It’s such a cruel joke. 

“The oil…” Junmyeon only needs to whisper that one word, and Chanyeol places searing kisses down his neck, one hand reaching over to the side of the bed, for the little pottery container with a lid on it. He knocks the lid off and it clatters on the floor. Chanyeol sighs as he sinks his fingers inside, to coat them in the substance within, silky and precious. A treasured luxury Junmyeon has no idea Chanyeol ever managed to purchase. 

“There’s still plenty of it left. I want you to use it before it spoils- rub it in your skin, to make it supple and soft.” Chanyeol kisses his cheek briefly as he pulls his hand back, brings it between Junmyeon’s legs. Junmyeon spreads them even wider, to give Chanyeol the space he needs. Chanyeol is looking at him now and Junmyeon has to close his eyes, can’t bear the intensity of it, tries not to cry as one of Chanyeol’s fingers pushes inside of him. Not because it hurts, but because he knows this is the last time they do this. The last time he’ll be one with Chanyeol, the last time they will bare themselves to each other so completely. 

“Shh…” But there are tears in Chanyeol’s voice as well, even though he tries to muffle those to the crook of Junmyeon’s neck, his shoulder, his temple. Junmyeon responds by lifting up his knees to press them to Chanyeol’s hips, to pull him closer, hold him there, even though Chanyeol is still only working one finger in and out of him. And Junmyeon knows he’ll draw this out; usually he does it because he’s a massive tease, but this time rushing to the end will be the end of everything. 

They have to savor it, even if at the same time it’s slow torture. 

“I love you.” Chanyeol’s booming voice has never been this quiet, as he whispers into Junmyeon’s ear. This time, Junmyeon doesn’t have the strength to reply. There’s nothing left, except the massive void that he’s teetering on the edge of. Void made of longing and sadness, and he cannot see the bottom, doesn’t know how long he’ll fall when this is all over. 

Chanyeol adds the second finger and Junmyeon bites back any sounds of discomfort, rolling his hips to ride his fingers, encourage Chanyeol to give him a little more. But Chanyeol does no such thing, pinning his smaller body down so he cannot move, and still moving his hand at the same, torturous pace. Maddeningly rubbing the pads of his fingers right over that spot where it feels the best, where it makes Junmyeon’s thighs shake, his toes curl, his breaths hiccup, and soon, he’s not sure if he’s close to tears from sorrow or sheer frustration. 

“Please…” He tries to distract himself by feeling up Chanyeol’s body, his strong arms, his broad back, dragging patterns with his fingertips, with his fingernails, a part of him hoping to leave at least some kind of marks on him. But it’s only working a little bit- Chanyeol simply knows his body too well, knows exactly what to do to break him. Tear apart his body, just how he’s torn apart Junmyeon’s heart already. 

“Please, Chanyeol.” He says it again, and he can feel the hint of a smile playing about Chanyeol’s lips as he kisses him, shuts him up. “Please… Please… I need you…” 

Chanyeol licks into his mouth, and finally removes his fingers, gripping Junmyeon’s hip. Usually, they do this on all fours- they like it the best that way. But tonight, that would be too animalistic, not intimate enough. They both feel it, they both know it. 

Junmyeon suffocates his moan into the kiss, into Chanyeol’s warmth, as he pushes inside him. Even after all this time, it takes some getting used to, his entire length and girth, and Junmyeon struggles for air, like surfacing after a long dive underwater. Chanyeol is there to comfort him, with kisses, with words, whispers of how good he feels, how much he enjoys his body, how warm he is, and so, so tight. 

“I’ll think about this… When I have to touch myself.” Chanyeol murmurs this directly into Junmyeon’s ear, as he slowly begins to move his hips back and forth, unable to wait any longer. No matter how much their hearts desire to stretch this out, their bodies cannot do so, not infinitely. Their bodies’ needs, they have a limit, and they’re fast approaching it. “I will think about this moment, and the times before this… When we did this, together. I’ll think about it, and make haste to come for you as fast as I can. Because I will miss you… My body, my cock, they’ll miss you, and my heart will miss you. So much.”

His words bring tears back to Junmyeon’s eyes, although he tries to will them away. Doesn’t want to break down completely. But Chanyeol punctuating his words with gentle rolls his hips, attacking not only his mind but his body as well, it leaves him so weak, so bare. With Chanyeol on top of him like this, even in this dark room, Junmyeon has nowhere to hide. 

Maybe doing this like animals would have been better, after all. 

“Please imagine me very prettily,” he chokes up saying this, even if he attempts to make light of the situation. Just so he wouldn’t be crushed underneath it all. “Not like this… With my eyes puffy, my face swollen. Not like this, weeping for you- unless it’ll make you come back faster. Unless it will make you turn around before you even get there.”

There’s frustration in Chanyeol’s eyes, and it shows in how he moves, how he pushes into Junmyeon more purposefully, with more force behind his thrusts. Junmyeon hiccups and wraps his arms around Chanyeol’s shoulders once more, to try and hold on, to stop slipping on the bed as Chanyeol fucks into him. 

“I wish I could make you see.” Chanyeol, at least, isn’t crying. “I wish you could understand. I’m not doing this for myself, I’m doing this for us! I’m going to help create a world where we’ll never go hungry again, where we’ll never lack a thing, where no one will be able to hurt us again. But that country won’t come to be on its own, Junmyeon, they need me there-”

“Shut up.” There really is no point. Not anymore. Chanyeol has been so completely blinded by everything, and Junmyeon cannot change his mind, his heart. And so, he kisses Chanyeol fiercely, using his legs to urge him to move faster, and lets the pleasure wipe his thoughts away, lets it wash over him like a tidal wave and carry him with it. Into a place where words aren’t necessary, where goodbyes have no meaning. Where he can hold onto this forever.

It crests, it grows, the pressure inside him, the tension connecting them together. It’s frantic, the chase for that final peak; after drawing this out for so long, they finally have to succumb to it fully. Their bodies hardly separate as they grind together, fast and dirty, kissing away each other’s cries and moans. The sweat on their skin, the soft cotton surrounding them, the taste of each other’s mouths, the friction between their bodies. In this moment, haste and fleeting as it is, there’s something eternal- the carnal needs of their bodies, combined with the aching love of their hearts, connected like this as one.

Chanyeol comes how he always does- moaning, calling his name, holding him so tightly that Junmyeon struggles to breathe through his iron grip, through his crushing emotion. His weight settles on top of him even heavier than before, as he gives up on holding himself up. Junmyeon whines and bucks his hips up, and Chanyeol separates them again, just enough to slip his hand in between their bodies to jerk him off. 

And even though Junmyeon told himself not to cry anymore, he still does when he finally comes, when Chanyeol tries to kiss his tears away, and when Chanyeol finally pulls out his body. 

There are no more words left. They cannot convince each other to stay, to leave- they cannot say goodbye any better than this.

Chanyeol falls asleep first, like he always does. No matter what, he always gets so sleepy after an orgasm, a trait that Junmyeon all this time found so endearing. But right now, it feels cruel. 

He doesn’t stay behind to wait for the morning. He can’t bear even the thought of watching Chanyeol get dressed, pack the last of his belongings and go. Watch his retreating back, hoping for him to turn around and return, only to be disappointed when he disappears behind the last corner. 

All night, he weeps in his bed, and stays there until he’s sure that Chanyeol is already gone. That it’s too late to do anything. 

There are occasional letters, sometimes, with shaky penmanship, mostly talking about all the work Chanyeol has to do for the great leader. Until the war begins- and after that, an impenetrable border is built, and all connections are cut off. 

After that, Junmyeon never hears from Chanyeol again.


End file.
